


Only you, tonight

by pallasandthepeople



Category: Original Work, West Side Story (1961)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasandthepeople/pseuds/pallasandthepeople
Summary: Weeks before Tony and Maria found each other, another jet and another shark fell in love.Set in the "universe" of the West Side Story with many cameos by its characters. Written for the "happy ending for two gay men in the 50s" challenge (except for the ones that died in WSS...)





	1. Week 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [our wholesome Karolina](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=our+wholesome+Karolina).

> I just really wanted to give two gay guys in the 50s a happy ending.

He only gets the job after a thorough talking to, and even then it’s on probation. 

“It’s neutral territory, there won’t be any problems, really,” he tells Josephine. He’s charming when he wants to be and he knows it works. 

“Won’t let the Sharks get another one of our jobs,” he tells the other Jets, along with some other promises along the lines of showing that Puerto Rican what a real jet is. But he needs this job, he hasn’t had a steady one since he dropped out, and the post office is indeed neutral territory, so he tries his best. On his first day he walks straight to the mailroom, Josephine’s eyes fixed on his back, and extends a hand to the shark guy that’s eyeing him warily. 

“Hi, I’m George Daly,” he says. The guy is small but well built, and he recognizes him as the one that once gave Daddy-O a huge black eye.

Now the guy just furrows his brows, but he takes the offered hand anyway. “Jesús Áviles Ibañez.”

Which… what?

“What,” he says. “Didn’t catch that. Ghesoo?”

“Jesús,” the guy repeats slowly, pronouncing the ‘j’ as a hard ‘gh’ and the ‘e’ as a sort of ‘i’. He’s not even sure what’s happening with the second consonant.

“You’re called after Jesus Christ?” he finally deciphers.

Jesús nods.

“Christ.”

Jesús’ eyes narrow.

He decides to call the guy Jay, because he’s pretty sure his mother would consider calling a guy JC blasphemy. 

The first day goes well enough. Josephine keeps him busy at the front of the shop selling stamps, giving out mail and carrying the occasional package to the back. Whenever he does the latter Jay is there working through the new mail, but they don’t have to talk to each other and so they don’t. 

At breaktime he quickly drops by Doc’s around the corner, where Tony gives him part of his sandwich in exchange for some gossip. Apparently their ex-leader didn’t know about the crushing defeat the Jets endured at the pit last week.

“Riff doesn’t tell me anything,” Tony complains. “Wants to give the impression he’s got everything under control, I gather.”

He tells Tony his new co-worker is a shark called after Jesus Christ, and Tony just laughs.

“I knew that job would be good for you,” he smiles, “it’ll help you grow up. The world out there isn’t all about Jets and Sharks, y’know.”

It’s been half a year since Tony quit the Jets and started his job at Doc’s. He’s not even that much older than him and already has the whole grown-up thing going on. So George just rolls his eyes and says: “Of course not, but ours sure is.”

That night he meets Riff and the rest in front of the former Tiger Den. The abandoned building sits at the border of shark territory, and Riff said they should stand guard.

It’s mostly hanging out though. George has brought drinks to celebrate his new job.

Daddy-O and Ice are just waxing philosophically about the difference between acting cool and being cool (“people notice the difference you know, they do”) when the Sharks appear. They’re standing at the opposite of the street, the faded tiger billboard of Tiger Den behind them, and there’s more of them than usual. There’s Bernardo and the usual suspects; Chino, Luis, Pepe, and that guy George secretly calls Fernando because it suits him. There’s also a few others that aren’t always around. George recognizes Jesús between them with a shock. They exchange an awkward glance. 

“You’re on _ our _territory,” Bernardo says.

Riff gets up and the other Jets quickly follow his lead.

“No, see, we’re not, the Tiger Den is still Jet territory,” Riff says.

“It isn’t,” Bernardo replies, “since April 12th.”

George tries to remember what happened on April 12th, but he can’t. Riff clearly does know though, as he gets into a furious debate on whether the outcome of those events were a tie or a win for the Sharks. 

“What happened April 12th?” he quietly asks Baby John.

“The basketball incident,” Baby John whispers back. 

“Ah.” He still doesn’t remember. Maybe he stayed home that day. 

When he looks up he again catches the stare of Jesús. That’s going to be awkward tomorrow, he thinks.

In the end no one is really feeling like a fight and the confrontation ends with a few empty threats. The area around Tiger Den changes status from jet territory to disputed territory, they hand over some of George’s drinks, and that’s that. Afterward he and Baby John walk home together. Pauline (“Paul!”) catches up with them on the way and they talk for a while till he remembers he is no longer just a high school drop-out but one with a steady job. He quickly hurries home at around two in the morning. 

“Had a fun night?” Josephine asks disapprovingly when she sees his face the next morning. Jesús grins broadly at him from the mailroom, the fucker looking as impeccable as ever. 

“Sorry ma’am, took my girl out to celebrate the first day on the job,” he quickly says, trying for a charming smile. 

“If you don’t watch out you won’t have anything to celebrate soon,” she frowns. “Go to the back to help Jesús, I don’t want any customers to see you like this.”

“Which one of them was your girl?” Jesús asks innocently when George takes his place next to the mountain of letters. If the situation had been different he would have hurled himself at the Puerto Rican, but Josephine’s mood being like it was he figured he couldn’t afford it. 

“The most beautiful one,” he bites back - not an amazing reply retrospectively, but it does shut the other boy up for a while. 

They work in silence for almost an hour, quietly sorting the letters into postman districts and listening to the voices of clients coming from the front. George’s mood slowly improves. He starts enjoying the easy cadence of the job, the altogether not that uncomfortable silence with Jesús, and the stories he imagines behind every letter that passes through his hand. He also gets the time to study a shark up close, something he’s never had the chance to do before (except for when he’s fought one, but that was hardly a good way to look at someone). Jesús has long fingers with a darker tan than the rest of his body. His face has lots of sharp angles but some softness too, and his dark curls are just a bit too long to be fashionable. It’s mostly the eyes that fascinate him though. His pupils are unbelievably dark, and his eyelashes long as a girl’s.

When the silence has gone on for too long and his mood is lifted enough George decides he might as well start a conversation. 

“I think your american name should be Jay,” he says, for lack of something better to say. 

Jesús lifts his eyebrows without looking up. 

“My ‘american name’?” he asks with a hint of a puerto rican accent. 

“Yes. You are in America now after all, and people here just aren’t called after Jesus Christ. It’s easier to say too, and it works perfectly for your name.”

“It does…?”

“Yes, think about it: it’s your initials. Like, I don’t actually remember all your surnames, but they started with ‘A’ and ‘I’. J.A.I., Jay, it just fits.”

“Puerto Rico is in the USA now, my name is as american as yours. It always was actually, being south-american and all. Maybe _ you _ should change your name to Jorge.”

Jesús hasn’t looked up one single time since they started talking, but George can’t stop looking at him.

“Gho..g… What?”

“Jorge. The spanish version of George is Jorge.”

“Ghoguh?”

“Jorge.”

“I guess it’s only fair I get a spanish name if you get an american one,” George eventually shrugs with a smile. He imagines an America in which everyone has two names on their passport and chuckles. “Puerto Rico is indeed in America now.”

“See I would go along with this joke,” Jesús says as he smacks a package on the pile, “were it not that you started this conversation by insulting my name.”

“How is it going with the shark?” Tony asks during lunch break. 

“Well enough,” George shrugs as he leans over the bar. “The whole neutral territory thing is going okay. Haven’t fought yet. I wanted to, but I didn’t. He told me today my spanish name would be Goguh.”

Tony shoots him a strange look.

“That’s nice,” he says. “Just… Don’t get too close to him, you know. Riff is quite on edge lately, better not to antagonize him by becoming chums with a shark.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m a jet. First cigarette to last dying day and all that.”

Tony smiles. “Goguh. Huh. Has a sound to it.”

“See the thing about Puerto Ricans,” Riff says on Thursday, “is that they’re all Sharks. I mean, they’re in _ our _ country, we’re surrounded by Americans, and yet somehow they are stronger because _ every Puerto Rican that lands on our shores defaults to being a shark. _ Everyone. And yet there are only so many Americans that care about being a jet.” He looks fondly at the guys around him. “You guys, most of all.”

It’s getting far too hot to hang around outside before sunset, George thinks. Especially at the basketball court, where the hot cement radiates heat at them. 

On Saturday the post office closes at 2 pm. George helps Josephine close up for the weekend and spends the rest of the afternoon with his uncle.

He’s been living with the man for a few years now, ever since his mother moved upstate to live with her parents. Henry Daly has shown an astonishing indifference on taking him in, just as he’s continued to be indifferent to anything George does or doesn’t do. Even after all of these years George still feels like he mainly serves as an object to receive Henry’s thoughts. 

They’re sitting in the parlor in companionable silence, George with his sketchbook, Henry with the paper. Henry makes occasional comments on what he reads. 

“Very happy the job is going well lad, with all the juvenile delinquency you read about these days.” Henry has somehow not made the connection between his nephew's club and the gangs from the newspaper. George isn't gonna correct him. A bit later Henry says: “Man, no wonder your friends can’t find jobs, this situation with Puerto Rico is really getting out of hand.”

It’s an easy way as any to get the news.

Henry is just muttering about the business with the commies when the sound of someone running over the fire escape disturbs their peace. George is feeling lazy. It’s his afternoon off, he doesn’t want to go out. He gets a few seconds to decide how much of a jet he really feels before Pauline appears in front of the window. 

“Georgie, quick! They’re fighting! The basketball court!”

And there’s something about her energy, her excitement, that always manages to push him over the edge. It’s contagious. He quickly gets up, shoots his uncle a quick glance and climbs out of the window to run after Pauline. 

By the time he arrives at the basketball court there’s already a full-blown fight going on. About twenty guys from each side are going at it with full force. No weapons, he notices with some relief. Even so he quickly takes his shirt off and puts it on a bench; a torn undershirt is more acceptable than the alternative. Those few seconds of pause also give him the time to locate Jesús between the shark guys. He’s fighting a Jets wannabe that looks a few heads taller than Jesús is; Jesús is winning. The other boy clearly has no idea what he’s doing and Jesús _ does, _he knows very well what he’s doing. 

Alright, George thinks, there’s two ways to go about this. I can either hold up our tentative peace by going out of my way to fight anyone _ but _ Jesús, or I can get the inevitable confrontation out of the way. 

“Georgie, come on!” someone shouts.

He launches himself at Jesús.

George has never enjoyed a fight as much as that one. Maybe it’s the stakes, maybe it’s the fact that he actually knows the guy, maybe it’s how good of a fighter Jesús is, but it’s fun and it’s challenging and every punch has to be earned. He loves it. 

They’re both completely focused on each other, and so it comes as a surprise when suddenly the Jets call victory and the Sharks around them start running away. Jesús slowly loosens his grip on George’s pants. He bats away the now still hand on his chest and gets up. All the way his eyes are fixed on George’s, till he suddenly makes a sharp turn and runs away in the direction of shark territory. A few Jets move to run after him, but George waves at them and shouts that he’s got him. 

He finds Jesús - or rather, Jesús finds him, when the other boy whistles at him from the top of a wall. It’s a high wall, and Jesús is effectively out of his reach. 

“Hey,” George says. “We good?”

He doesn’t know why he says it. It’s ridiculous, they’re a jet and a shark and they just fought: there’s no reason for them to 'be good'. 

Jesús looks around him as if to check that there’s no one there to see. “Sure. See you at work.”

It’s only after he’s disappeared that George realizes the tune Jesús whistled was the jet whistle, but reversed.


	2. Week 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So on the name Pauline/Paul for Anybodys: I saw the musical live in the Spanish tour and for some reason everyone had "normal" names there. There was also a Mike eg. Show was amazing though, I'm just interpreting these names as their non-nickname names.

Their second week working together is different from their first, and Josephine notices as well. If someone were to ask George how the relationship between two rival gang members evolves after a direct confrontation, the answer would surely be something along the lines of “worse”. But it isn’t. 

It’s like we’ve established what we are, George muses while handing over a bag with mail to the postman. We’re a jet and a shark and so we fight, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be other things too. 

He’s not sure how much there is to this theory, but he likes it all the same. 

Monday morning is busy because they have to catch up on the post from the weekend; Josephine puts him in the back with Jesús to go through the mountain of mail. They work together in companionable silence, till George gets tired of it and starts saying his thoughts out loud. 

“This one is stamped in Kansas. It’s probably from A. Bergen’s mother, asking him why he never writes back. What she doesn’t know is that he gave up his job here to spend all his savings on prostitutes and gambling, and that he’s even about to marry one of these prostitutes.” 

“What?” Jesús chuckles. 

“I mean it’s a guess, but an informed one. There’s this guy from Kansas in my street that sure fits the description.” 

Jesús smiles but doesn’t say anything. 

“This is a love letter from a girl that’s far too desperate,” he says a moment later waving a purple envelope so the perfume floats in Jesús’ direction. 

“This one is for you uncle,” he grins when he sees an envelope addressed to P. Ibañez de la Vira. “Right? Like at least one of the surnames matches. How does that even work?” 

Jesús raises his eyebrows. “Are we going to talk about names again?” 

They might as well, George thinks.

“Yes! Why do you guys get to have two of them? It’s not fair.”

“No one told you you couldn’t.” 

“Well, yes, but we don’t.” 

“One is from you father and one is from your mother,” Jesús says. “It’s very simple. Don’t have any de la Vira‘s in the family though.” He’s silent for a moment before he adds: “You lied about your own name, by the way.”

George shoots him a confused look.

“I heard them call you Georgie. You’re no Jorge, you’re a Jorgito,” Jesús smirks.

On Tuesday George wakes up early by miracle and has time to make himself some sandwiches. That means he doesn’t have to spend his break at Doc’s begging Tony for food leftovers, so he stays in the mailroom with Jesús instead. 

“When did you arrive in New York?” he asks. 

“Three years ago,” Jesús replies with a mouth full of scrambled eggs. “Haven’t been back since.” 

“Do you miss it?” 

“You grew up here right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Would you miss it if you had to move halfway across the world all of a sudden?” 

“...Yeah. And I will have to move eventually if the recent plans for the neighborhood are even a little bit true.” He muses that over for a while. “So why did you move?” 

Jesús shrugs. “I grew up in the countryside. There were no jobs. Like none at all, the city was only starting to create jobs in the industry. A cousin got an offer from a factory here in New York and I tagged along.” 

“So you did work at a factory before this?” 

Jesús nods. “You?” 

“I dropped out of high school at seventeen, have been doing small jobs here and there ever since. This is my first steady job.”

“Why did you drop out of high school?” Jesús asks almost angrily.

“It… What’s the point? I’m a working-class lad, it’s not like I’m going to be able to go to college. My grades were good but not great, you know? Figured I might as well get a head start on the job I’ll be doing all my life.” 

He looks around him at the post office.

Jesús looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. They continue eating their lunch in silence. 

That evening he takes a walk through the neighborhood with the Jets (“a patrol”, Riff had said). They’re close to PR territory when Mike suddenly lets out a cheer and pumps his fist in the air.

“Look!” he beams, “the Stewarts are on our side!” 

They follow his gaze to the pharmacy. At this time of night the shop is closed, but the big sign on the door is still very much visible. ‘NO DOGS OR PUERTO RICANS ALLOWED’ it reads. 

“That’s not as much our side as it is not-their-side,” George whispers to A-Rab. He has an uneasy feeling in his stomach. A-Rab doesn’t look too happy either, George knows his parents are Jewish. 

The rest seem overjoyed though. They spent the rest of the way discussing the different shops in Lincoln Square that might be persuaded to do a similar thing, maybe even with a jet endorsement. 

“Isn’t it strange that this isn’t just a friendly gang rivalry?” he asks Tony on Wednesday.

Tony sights. “It is and it isn’t.”

“So it isn’t.”

“We’re fighting over territory like any other gang in America.”

“But every other gang in America doesn’t have a whole country behind them.”

“No.” Tony bites his lip. “Look, I don’t have anything against Puerto Ricans in general. It’s a bit unfortunate that they arrived right here, where there is some job scarcity and stuff, but they’re welcome to it. I do have something against Bernardo and his lot though. I mean I don’t, not anymore, gang stuff is all far behind me, but, you know. I did.”

“I see.”

“I mean it’s weird,” Henry says at dinner that night while George helps himself to more potatoes. “What do you even do with them? They’re not blacks, they’re not whites, they’re just this weird mix. Like, what does Jim Crow do with them?” 

George bites his tongue.

“Do you hate America?” he asks Jesús on Thursday. 

Jesús carefully puts the letters in his hand back on the table and slowly turns around to look at George. If looks could kill he would be ash now, George thinks. 

“I don’t want to talk about  _ that _ with  _ you _ ,” Jesús says after a very long silence. Both the ‘you’ and the ‘that’ are charged with more meaning than George can comprehend. 

“Oh okay.” 

It’s not until they’re closing up that evening that Jesús talks to him again.

“You should live less in your head,” he tells George as a goodbye.

“Are you going to the dance next week?” A-Rab asks him on Friday. 

George looks up and tries to process the question. He had been thinking about how Jesús at work had pretended their fight never happened. 

“What?”

“The dance, the dance at the gym. Are you going? You should get a ticket.”

“That’s next week already?” 

“Yes! What did working life do to you?” 

“I don’t know man, seems like last week we had the last one.”

A-Rab grins.

“Come on Georgie, it’s gonna be fun. We’re going with a few of the lads.”

“A quiet night at home sounds fun too…,” he grins. 

A-Rab shakes his head and leans in closer as if to whisper a secret.

“You should. I have this suspicion Bernardo has a new girlfriend, and you know what I say about Puerto Rican ladies: they look  _ good _ if nothing else. The boobs Georgie, it’s the boobs.”

That isn’t the line that convinces George to come. 

“Are you coming to the dance next week?” he asks Jesús the next morning while they wheel the new mail to the office.

“Why, wanna go together?” Jesús laughs. He gives the truck driver a sign they’re ready.

George stops dead in his tracks. “What? No, no… Just… You should buy a ticket, that’s all. They’re gonna run out soon.” 

Jesús takes four red tickets from his pocket and waves them in the air. “Already got them Jorgito, don’t worry.” 

That line does convince George to come. 

It’s going to be fun to see Jesús interact with other Puerto Ricans on neutral territory, he tells himself as he buys a ticket at Doc’s.

On Sunday he talks to Josephine after church.

“I’m glad you two are getting on together,” she winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading up a lot on Puerto Rican immigration to the US and gangs in the 50s (=before there were drugs). It's fascinating really, I can recommend these pages:
> 
> http://newyorkcitygangs.com/?page_id=164  
http://lcw.lehman.edu/lehman/depts/latinampuertorican/latinoweb/PuertoRico/1950s.html  
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puerto_Ricans_in_New_York_City#1950s


	3. Week 3

On Monday he wakes up with a disconcerting feeling. Part of the problem is one he’s had plenty of times before in the morning; what’s new is that he’s now quite sure it was connected to a dream. Perhaps a person in a dream.

If only he ever remembered what his dreams were.

“So would you consider this Puerto Rican coworker a friend now?” Tony asks at lunch. 

George shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

He truly doesn’t know. The most he can say for their relationship is that he enjoys it a lot, and that he might seek out Jesús’ attention slightly more than would be normal. He loves their little interactions throughout the day.

“What was his name again? It was weird, right?” 

“Jesús. Guy has two surnames too but I always forget.”

“He’s called Jesús? Jesus, that’s strange.” 

“I know! Been telling him that the past weeks.” 

Tony hums and leans over.

“Hey, you’re going to the dance at the gym right?” he asks. 

“Yes…?” 

“See that girl over there?” 

He nods at a blonde girl fidgeting in the corner.

“Been here almost every lunch break since you started coming. Staring at you. You should ask her out.” 

George feels a nervous knot form in his stomach. “Really?” he whispers, stealing a glance at the girl. He barely recognizes her.

“Her name is Fiona, she works as a secretary next door.”

“That’s nice…”

“She has a friend called Rose too, I’m going with her.” 

George lifts an eyebrow. “You want to go on a double date? Really?” 

“Hey man, it’s just a hint. Do with it what you want.” 

Fiona catches his eye and does a weird fluttering thing with her eyelids. 

He doesn’t do anything with it. 

That night Ice and two other Jets report that they beat up Paco.

“He was saying things to Baby John, but the chicken ran away when he saw us.” 

Riff is furious. “We had a fight last week guys,” he says. “What need was there to provoke them more before the dance? If we have another fight at the gym they’ll throw us out for good.”

“You’re just saying this because Maddie has been at your throat lately,” Ice throws back at him. 

Riff smacks him in the face, but he doesn’t contradict it either. 

At least it wasn’t Jesús, George thinks. 

The next day George is a bit worried Jesús will say something like “hey, that’s my best friend/brother-in-law/cousin your guys beat up yesterday”, but Jesús doesn’t mention it. Not only that, it’s him who eventually breaks the silence after George spend the morning behind the counter. 

“Have you seen Rebecca?” he asks during lunch, sitting casually on the mailroom table. 

“Who?” 

Jesús rolls his eyes and laughs. “The movie. The movie Rebecca. Joan Fontaine, Hitchcock? ‘Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again’... No?”

George shakes his head, still baffled at the high pitched voice Jesús used for the quote. 

“It’s an old movie but it’s really good. They’re putting it on in the East Side. You should go.”

“I should?” 

“Yeees,” Jesús smirks, happier than George has ever seen him. “It’s a classic and it’s got everything: murder, mystery, an angry housekeeper, a handsome husband, Joan Fontaine… My family liked it so much we started calling those female jackets rebeccas.”

“...What?” 

“You know, those woolen jackets girls wear over dresses…? Joan wears them all the time in the movie. Here, I’ll show you.” He grabs George’s shirt and pulls him closer. For a moment George is afraid Jesús will punch him, but instead the other guy starts tracing lines over his chest.

George’s mind completely blanks out for a few seconds. It takes a long time for him to catch onto the fact that Jesús is apparently tracing the outline of the jacket. On his chest. With his fingers. When he feels the shivers on his spine he finally musters up the courage to beat Jesús’ hand away. 

“I don’t know man, still don’t have a very clear idea,” he says hoarsely.

Jesús smirks. “I’ll show you, don’t worry.”

That afternoon George is helping Josephine at the counter again when suddenly a jet walks in. It’s Mike, and as far as George knows it’s the first jet since he started working here. 

“Hey, Georgie! Got some stamps for me and my old man?” he shouts enthusiastically. 

George is still shaken by the events at lunch break and has to do an effort to get into the jet flow.

“Hey Mike, only for Jets!” he cracks with a lame smile. 

Mike doesn’t seem to mind. He leans over the counter while George cuts the right amount off for him. 

“Hey, Georgie, psst,” Mike half-whispers. “You were working with that shark boy right?” 

“Yes…?” It comes out too high-pitched for his liking. He shoots a glance at Josephine at the other end of the counter. She’s helping another customer, but he sees her eyes stray in their direction from time to time.

“How’s that going for you?” 

“Well, you know, neutral territory and all. It’s fine.” He goes for casual. He hopes it works. He hopes Mike doesn’t get that Jesús makes him feel things when he touches his chest with his very long very beautiful fingers.

The next morning he has The Problem again, and it’s much, much worse than on Monday, because now he does remember the face.

As a result, he spends Wednesday awkwardly ignoring both the Jets and Jesús. 

“You know what would be a very bad thing?” he finally manages to say on Thursday afternoon. Jesús looks up from the big envelope he was holding. 

“What?” 

“That, hypothetically, like you know, just an  _ imagine if _ , hypothetically...., that you were talking to me just to make a pass at the Jets.” 

Jesús rolls his eyes.

“You know what would be a _ real  _ bad thing?  _ That the Sharks found out I’ve been talking to you _ .” 

There’s a jet gathering before the dance, and because of the occasion girls are invited too. There’s Graziella, Diesel’s sister, who keeps shooting glances at Riff. There’s Maddy, Riff’s actual girlfriend, there’s Ice’s girl Velma and a few others. Even Baby John brought a date. And then there’s also Pauline, though she’s dressed as manly as ever. George figures he has to ask her about that some time. 

Tony also showed up and brought Rose and Fiona with. 

“I told you I don’t want to date her,” George angrily whispers to Tony. 

The older boy just laughs. 

It helps, gathering everyone beforehand, to make a grand entrance at the dance. Here come the Jets! The effect only gets ruined by the fact that Bernardo hasn’t shown up yet. Nor has Jesús (not that anyone noticed but George). But the alcohol they took beforehand also helps to loosen up, and by the time the Sharks make their grand entrance everyone is dancing and having a good time. 

The first thing George notices is that Jesús has an arm around a beautiful girl in a dark red dress. A knot suddenly appears in his stomach. That stops him from noticing anything else at first, but then he suddenly sees the tight black jeans, the red jacket that matches the girl’s dress, the  _ hairspray _ …

He extends a hand to Fiona without looking at her. 

“Come, let's dance.” 

The thing is this. George is a good dancer. He enjoys it. Girls tell him they enjoy dancing with him. But the Puerto Ricans have always had this… ‘extra’ thing. They dance differently, with more grace, less tied to steps and rigid dances. Even Riff, who prides himself to be an excellent dancer, falls flat next to Bernardo and their lot. Though that might be because of Maddie too, George muses. Riff’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to dance much more than the waltz. 

Jesús, unsurprisingly, dances very well, and George can’t keep his eyes off him while he whirls around with the girl. Anita, he hears people call her. 

He doesn’t like her. 

After a few dances with Fiona (who’s growing increasingly bored with his lack of attention for her) he ends up on a bench with Pauline. She’s dressed sharper than usual, but the clothes she wears are still very masculine. She looks relaxed. 

“Why do you do that?” he asks, propelled by his own drunkenness. He slouches against the wall and stares at Jesús. “Why do you dress like a boy?” 

Immediately Pauline tenses up.

“Because I  _ am  _ a boy,” she snarls, ready as ever for a fight. 

“Oh okay,” George shrugs. “So no Pauline then?” 

“No, Paul...” 

George nods. “Paul. Cool.”

They’re silent for a while.

“You never listened before Georgie, why now?” Paul asks with a strange voice. 

“Because I’m drunk,” George beams at him. “And also because I have a new name now too. My name is Ghoguh. It’s a secret name though, don’t tell anybody.” 

Paul stares at him. George gives him a friendly pad on the back as he gets up. 

“If you really want to be a jet you should ask Riff for a nickname. Makes stuff a lot easier too.” 

It’s about half-past eleven when, in his search for Jesús, he stumbles into Tony hiding behind a curtain. Somehow Jesús had disappeared from the dance floor without George noticing. Fortunately, Anita at least is visible, dancing with Bernardo, but he still doesn’t want to let Jesús out of his sight. 

“Tony, Tony,” George slurs, “why are you hiding behind a curtain?” 

Tony looks miserable. “I’m hiding for Rose. Is she gone yet?” 

George turns around to check. No Jesús, no Fiona and no Rose. 

“She is. What happened?” 

“I don’t know Georgie, nothing big really. It’s just never gonna work. I want something real, you know? A big love. True love.” He sights. “I want to look at a girl and be like: this is the one. Like in the movies.” 

Oh no, George thinks, the guy doesn’t know.

“Tony,” he manages to say with a worried expression, “the movies aren’t real.” 

Tony blinks. “I am a romantic.” 

“You,” George points a finger in Tony’s chest, “are drunk.” 

And with those words he manages to get himself outside. He has a Puerto Rican to find. 

He doesn’t find Jesús immediately. Instead, he sees Rose and Fiona standing outside in the parking lot getting ready to leave. Rose shoots him a dirty look, Fiona a sad one and George feels a pang of guilt. He’s about to go over to apologize for the evening when he suddenly hears a soft whistle. It’s not the jet whistle, it’s the jet whistle reversed, and his head snaps into the direction of the sound. 

There’s an abandoned building at the dark corner of the street. It’s surrounded by the high walls of half-demolished buildings, and he faintly distinguishes some movement in the shadows on the roof.

“Jay?” he softly whispers when he’s standing before the building.

Jesús’ head appears over the border. He calls him a bad name that sounds something like ‘geeleepoyas’ but there’s a loopy smile on his face and he helps George climb up. 

“You shouldn’t be climbing up these things when you’re drunk,” George berates. Because he is, Jesús is clearly very very drunk. He’s never seen that kind of smile on his face.

“ _ You _ are the one who’s drunk and can’t climb for his life,” Jesús laughs, and he nudges George in the side. George leans into the touch and they quietly stay like that.

"Now it's only you and me tonight," Jesús says softly.

“You left your date alone and now Bernardo took her, you stupid man,” George whispers. 

“Who? Anita?” George feels Jesús’ smile. “She was already Bernardo’s to begin with stupid, she’s my sister.” 

George can’t help but beam at the news. 

“And yours? Letting her go home unaccompanied?”

“Fiona? Oh, no… Fiona is just a… No, she’s not a friend, really. She’s just Fiona. Fiona is Fiona.” George sights. “But you are you, you know.”

He turns his head to shoot Jesús a meaningful look. Jesús stares back. 

“I really like working with you.” George feels like he’s stumbling over his words. “I don’t care that you’re a shark, you’re a good lad, and I love… I love working with you. Really.”

They stare at each other for a long time, their faces inches apart.

“You’re very brave,” Jesús whispers hoarsely at last. George is a bit lost as to where that compliment came from. “You always go into things headfirst.” And then Jesús closes the distance and presses his lips against his, and George feels like his mind just overloaded on new connections and information and his head exploded because of it. He doesn’t care. He grabs Jesús by the neck to get him closer, closer...

But then Jesús leans back looking like a deer in headlights. He wrestles free and jumps up, stumbling a bit from the booze. Before George can say anything he’s disappeared into the night. 

George is too stunned to go after him. 

He stays on that roof for a long time and watches the people leave the dance. They all look small and insignificant: Jets, Sharks and others alike all neatly paired together, going out of their way not to interact with each other. 

George still feels Jesús’ lips on his. It was true, what the shark said. George hates dancing around matters. And he’s been doing it long enough with his feelings.


	4. Week 4

George spends the whole of Sunday waiting restlessly for Monday to come. If he could he would’ve stomped to Jesús’ place and had a good conversation with the boy (and maybe more, but if George starts going down that track he’ll never sleep), but he simply doesn’t know where Jesús lives. 

It’s a stupid reason not to meet someone, George thinks as he enters the store on Monday morning. He knows where all Jets live, and a good number of other people, and somehow he has never managed to check where  _ Jesús  _ of all people lives.

“Oh George, good, I’m happy you’re early” Josephine greets him from behind the counter. “Jesús is not coming and you know how busy Monday mornings get.” 

George stops dead in his tracks.

“What? Why isn’t he coming?” 

“Came down with the flu or something. Could you get a start on the mail dear? Blase is coming at eleven today and his round should be sorted by then.”

George’s brain is still working overtime when he walks into the empty mailroom. Why didn’t Jesús show? Was he really sick? He was fine on Saturday. More than fine. Does he regret the kiss? Is he afraid George does? 

It’s usually Jesús who’s in charge of the mail sorting and George has no clue which area Blase covers on his round, so he starts by rummaging in the supply closet. There should be some sort of list with an overview of the areas the different mailmen have. He finds it next to a big, heavy envelope which he also takes with him to check if it got lost by accident.

‘Jesús Áviles Ibañez’ it reads on the brown envelope under a stamp of the Stanford University. He becomes distracted by the accent on the ‘u’ he had never known was there. Jesús had shown him how to write ‘Jorge’, not his own name. 

It takes him a few seconds to realize the lines under that name are an address.

The envelope is already opened so George doesn’t feel too guilty when he checks its contents. It contains a little booklet that according to its title belongs to Stanford’s Electrical Engineering correspondence course. This particular chapter is titled ‘Discrete Mathematics - Using Mathematical Induction in Mathematical Proofs’.

George stares at the booklet for longer than he should. Jesús is smart. He’s been telling the guy about his own high school failings, and all the time Jesús was following an advanced university course.

When Blase turns up later that morning to pick up his post there’s an extra item in the mailbag: a big brown envelope with a brand new stamp. Its contents are the correspondence course booklet and a small note that reads:

_ Hola Jesús, _

_ How are you! Heard you were sick. So bad! I found this, thought it might entertain you if you’re bedridden. Looks interesting, since when are you so smart?  _

_ If you’re feeling better we can maybe meet at the place from Saturday. Tonight at 10? I think we have to finish talking about some things. _

_ If you’re not feeling better maybe you could find a way to let me know? Bit worried. _

_ Won’t tell anyone anything, promise. _

_ Faithfully Yours, _

_ Jorge _

George feels quite proud of himself.

That evening he first goes to meet the Jets next to the basketball court. The original plan had been to meet up on Sunday, but A-Rab had come by to say that Riff had been too hungover.

“Georgie!” Mike shouts when he walks up to them. “Where were you on Saturday? You disappeared way too early, man.”

Georgie smiles. “Got into something with one of Bernardo’s lot outside,” he says as he sits down next to him. 

“You too?”

“What?” 

“Ice got into a fight with Chino outside.” 

“Damn.”

“Indeed. They were threatening to not host any dances anymore. Most probably officer Krupke will come next dance too.”

“Anything else I should know?”

Mike grins. “Oh yes. Riff had a girlfriend switch. Bye bye Maddie, hello Graziella.”

“Good! I like that girl, she dances very well.”

“That she does. Tony set you up with a girl too right?”

“Yeah…,” George sights, as he thinks of tonight. He doesn’t feel like he’ll ever look at a girl again. “Didn’t work out.”

Jesús is already sitting on the roof when he arrives. George stands still at a small distance. They study each other carefully. 

“You don’t look sick,” George says after a long silence.

“I’m not.” 

George snorts.

“I do get a bit of a cold when I drink, but I’m not sick,” Jesús adds with a tentative smile.

George shuffles around a bit. “So why didn’t you come to work today?” 

“You,” Jesús says without blinking.

“Me?”

“I’m not brave like you George, I prefer to beat around the bush first.”

“But you kissed me.”

“I was drunk.”

“What, so you didn’t mean it?” 

“...You could turn me into the police Georgie, you know that right? A Puerto Rican who goes around kissing guys, they’ll love it.”

“Did you mean it?” 

“Did you?”

George wants him to say it out loud, wants him to say he wants him. But he also realizes the ball is in his court. Jesús kissed him, now he has to make it okay.

So he says “I want to kiss you again” and after a short silence adds “I’d really like to kiss you now, if I could.”

Jesús briefly closes his eyes and George gets to admire his eyelashes. When he opens them again his eyes are dark with  _ want _ , and he doesn’t need to say anything anymore for George to  _ know _ . He bridges the distance between them, falls on his knees before Jesús and takes his face into his hands. 

“We’ll get enough time to talk tomorrow,” he decides. Jesús jerks George’s head towards him.

“Boys! You look terrible, did your youth clubs fight again?” Josephine says disapprovingly when she sees them arrive together in the morning. They’re covered in dust and wearing yesterday’s clothes. “I really need you to look like you slept more than two hours if you are to work at the counter George. This is not the first time this has happened.” 

Jesús laughs and bumps his shoulder against his. George shivers. Sleeping on the rooftop of a demolished building was admittedly not the best way to have a good night’s rest. 

He had enjoyed every minute of it.

“I can’t believe I’m your first,” Jesús grins as they get to work in the mailroom.

“First  _ guy. _ ” 

Jesús raises an eyebrow. “Can you honestly say you’ve ever liked a girl as much as this?”

“I…” George thinks back to all the girls he’s dated before. ‘No, but, you know, just because I’ve never been in love with one before doesn’t mean I couldn’t.” 

Jesús beats his eyelashes. “Mr Daly you flatter me,” he says in a high pitched voice, “are you saying you’re in love with me?” 

George slaps him with the stack of letters he’s holding. “Shut up you filthy shark.” 

Jesús bursts out in a kind of laugh George has never seen him use before. 

On Wednesday George is tidying up the counter for closing time when Jesús comes and sits on the newly cleaned surface. George shoots him an annoyed look and Jesús smiles.

“Come to the movies with me,” he tells him. 

“Are you mad?” George asks. 

“Rebecca. East Side. No one knows us there.”

They go.

It’s on the long walk back that George finally asks Jesús about the correspondence course. 

“It was your vicar’s idea,” Jesús says. “He helped us set up our church, and afterwards he asked me to help out with the administration of his church. That’s what Josephine was doing before me, so that’s how I know her too. The vicar knew someone who knew someone and they got me the course at a very reduced fee. Josephine said I could work for her and she’d give me reduced wages to pay back the debt, and that’s how that happened. Paid back the debt years ago, but the course is still going on.”

“Why electrical engineering?” 

“This friend of the vicar said it was an important field. A lot is happening around it but not a lot of people have the right skills. A teacher in Puerto Rico had me doing advanced math from early on, so they figured I could do that.” 

“And do you want to work with it?” 

“I like it a lot. It’s an interesting subject.”

“But will you leave your job at the post office for it?”

Jesús shrugs.

George marvels at the brains the Jesús has. He thinks that’s the moment he truly falls in love with the boy, and when they reach the outskirts of the neighbourhood he says “Don’t go home tonight”. Jesús smiles and nods.

That’s how George completely misses the news that three Sharks sneaked into Jets territory and beat up Baby John. The injuries are so bad he’s taken to hospital, and by the time George finds out the Jets are ready for outright war.

“Did you know?” he asks Jesús. He’s not sure if he’s mad or not. He likes Baby John a lot. He loves Jesús.

“Yes.” Jesús says with his best poker face.

George struggles for words.

“What,” Jesús snarls, “you wanted me to tell you? Why would I?”

“You know why.” 

“You didn’t tell me when your friends beat up Francisco either.”

“...Who?” 

“Francisco. Two weeks ago, remember?” 

“No, that was Paco!”

Jesús rolls his eyes. “Paco is short for Francisco.”

“...How?”

“Georgie, focus. I don’t expect you to spy on the Jets for me, don’t expect it from me either.” 

They stare at each other for a while in silence.

“I wish we were the only people in the world,” George whines, pulling Jesús closer for a hug. Jesús is almost locked in his embrace when Josephine walks into the mailroom. They all freeze. 

George quickly considers his options. He could pretend his hand on Jesús’ chest was actually part of a fight. A play fight maybe even. He could punch Jesús in the face and it would be a completely believable situation. But in the end he turns his puppy eyes to Josephine and says: “My best friend got into a car accident”, and that makes her face soften as she pushes Jesús away and gives him a hug herself. 

We’re hiding too much, George thinks. Something's gotta give. 

“Do you feel like you’ve escaped the Jets?” George asks Tony on Friday. He hasn’t been at Doc’s for lunch since his breaks got a lot more interesting, but Jesús is running some errands for Josephine today. He figured he could visit his old friend again.

“Escaped? What do you mean, ‘escaped’?”

George takes a few seconds to think. “Like whatever happens with the Jets doesn’t affect you anymore.”

Tony huffs. “Of course not, what did you think? I always know when something happens with you guys. If no one tells me the looks I get from Sharks on the street are enough indication.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Why, you thinking of leaving?” 

“I don’t know Tony. If I leave I want to leave for good.”

Tony studies his face while he reaches under the counter and gives George the Pamphlet. 

“This guy came in the other day,” he says. “Said they were looking for people to work for the Holland-America Line. You know those passenger ships that go to Europe? If you want to  _ really _ escape that’s it man. I’d personally go to the countryside though.”

George stares at the pamphlet. ‘Join now!’ it says. There’s a picture of a big ship on it, its name written under it in cursive: ‘ SS Ryndam (II)’.

“The name of the ship is horrible. How do you even pronounce that?”

Tony shrugs. “It’s Dutch,” he supplies.

“Well…, thanks Tony. I’ll look into it.”

George takes the pamphlet. 

George spends his Sunday (after church, of course) lying lazily on what he has come to think of as ‘their’ roof with Jesús. He doesn’t bring up the pamphlet. Instead, he lets Jesús tell him about his life in Puerto Rico, about his family, about his friends. About Anita, who acts tough but manages to take care of everyone around her. About Maria, the newly arrived sister of Bernardo who still believes the world is all rainbows and roses. About Chino, who sat down with Jesús every evening during a full year to teach him Engish. About Javi, who taught Jesús everything else he needed to know about the USA. About Bernardo, who has long discussion with Jesús on everything they loved and hated about their new country.

It’s easy, on their roof, to listen to stories about these people and not think of Anita as Bernardo’s Anita, of Chino as one of the guys who beat Baby John into the hospital, of Javi as the guy he was always afraid of as a kid. On the roof they’re just Jesús’ sister and friends. 

“You love them.”

“I do,” Jesús says as he traces lines over George’s face. 

So George tells him stories of the people he loves. He starts with Baby John, because he’s still angry about that. He tells Jesús about the time Baby John took the blame for something he did in class and had to spend a week washing toilets. After that he had been made a full-blown jet. He tells Jesús how A-Rab gave him his nickname King Georgie, because his mother always made very extensive lunchboxes for him. When his mother left they took away the ‘King’ and he became just Georgie. He tells Jesús about Pauline who wants to be called Paul and is a jet. He tells Jesús about Riff, and how he beat George up when he told them the news of his drop out. He tells Jesús about his good catholic mother who became pregnant right before her fiancee took off to war and never came back. How she couldn’t stand the shame of being  a single mother and left for her parents in the countryside. He tells  Jesús about his uncle, who cares about him in his own disinterested way. He tells Jesús about Tony and how happy he was when he heard George got a real job, which he saw as a way to grow out of the Jets.

“You love them,” Jesús smiles.

“Yes.”

“You love me too.”

“Yes.” 

Jesús smiles fondly and leans forward to kiss him. “Yo también te quiero, pendejo.” 

George supposes that counts.


	5. Week 5

Sunday is a world away from Monday evening’s meeting with the Jets.

“It was that bastard Chino,” Riff raves. He’s visited Baby John in the hospital and he’s in a mood. “Martha’s kid saw him running away with two others. Baby John says there was a woman there too. Bernardo’s slut, most probably.”

George bites his tongue.

“What do you wanna do, Riff?” Ice shouts.

“We,” Riff says slowly but loud enough for everyone to hear, “are the greatest gang of New York City, and it’s time those  _ FUCKING Sharks _ realized!”

Everyone cheers.

“We have to prepare for a big battle, Jets. It will not be today, it will not be tomorrow, but something big is coming and we have to be ready.” 

There is some more shouting. 

George spots Paul running towards them from the other side of the basketball court. 

“Let me help Riff, let me help!” he shouts. 

“Go away Pauline!” Ice jeers. 

“I heard what they did to Baby John. I want revenge too, let me help! I could be one of the Jets!”

“You couldn’t be  _ anybody’s _ ,” Riff says.

He puts so much emphasis on the word that it makes George think. He faintly remembers telling Paul he should get a nickname, and he meant it. No one is going to call him Paul, a nickname is much better.

“Hey Anybody’s!” he shouts. “Why don’t you go beat up some Jets for us and let the big guys talk?”

Paul shoots him a hurt look, but it works. The other boys laugh and start calling him Anybody’s too, and before he knows it A-Rab and Daddy-O are laughing and dancing on an improvised ‘Andybody’s song’. 

If he manages to make it stick Paul will be a jet in a few months, George thinks. 

At the end of the meeting Riff gets them together for the last bit of news.

“One more thing,” he says with a serious expression. “I ran into the police at the hospital. They say they are on our side.” 

“That’s good right?” A-Rab laughs. 

“It is, but we’re not going to use it.”

“What? Why not?” Ice asks.

“This is  _ our _ fight boys. Not theirs. They don’t get to help us in one fight and beat us in another. No. We don’t tell them a thing, got it? They ask you for names, they ask you for locations, they ask you for events, you say nothing, yes? We fight the Sharks, but we fight them in a fair fight.”

George can’t help but feel a bit proud of his friends, they accept it readily enough. He’s mostly worried though. 

The last straw is a newspaper he sees a boy sell on the way to work. It has two headlines: ‘Hurricane Clara hits Puerto Rico causing 18 fatalities’ and ‘Youth delinquency: new evidence in the Michael Farmer murder’. 

He buys the newspaper and marches to the store. Jesús is there already, cleaning the counter.

“Where’s Josephine?” he demands.

Jesús frowns. “Went out for some groceri…”

George slams the newspaper in front of him. He barely gives Jesús time to read it.

“Riff is furious,” he says, “they say something big is about to happen, something more than the playful fight this has been till now…”

Jesús backs away from him. “Don’t tell me jet stuff! I don’t want to know!”

“No, listen to me. He’s saying  _ something big _ will happen. Jesús, this fifteen-year-old boy was murdered not two weeks ago. The Jets and Sharks have been dancing around each other for years, it’s about time something’s gotta give. And we, the two of us, we’re playing with fire. A lot of fire.”

“What are you saying?” 

“We have to leave.”

“No.” Jesús violently shakes his head. “No George, we can’t leave.”

“It’s the only way to not let them affect us!”

“It’s the same everywhere George!” 

“No it’s not!” George has never been outside of New York, but he firmly wants to believe there’s something else out there. He loved geography in school.

“Yes it is! Where do you even want to go? To a Puerto Rican community to have you ostracized? To any other community to have me ostracized?” 

“Europe.” George puts the pamphlet on the table. “We could go to Spain, you speak Spanish right? I could learn, we’ll be happy. You can pass as Spanish, I could pass as an American tourist, it’ll be fine.”

Jesús doesn’t even look at the pamphlet. He leans forward and almost hisses at George. He looks beautiful when angry, but George figures that has to wait.

“George, Spain is a fascist dictatorship.” 

“Fine. Another country.” 

“ _ There are no other countries. _ ”

“There are, there must be!” 

Jesús shakes his head. “I can’t believe you and your stupid American positivity.” 

“Do you just not want to be with me, is that it? Because that’s what will happen Jesús. They’ll kill both of us if they find out we even talk to each other, let alone whatever this is. And they will find out, one way or another.” 

Jesús is fuming. _ _

“What is your plan, eh?” George continues. “Just work here forever, be together during the day and fight each other in the evening till we’re sixty? Just hope no one kills someone on the way?  _ What is your plan? _ ” 

Jesús throws the towel he was holding on the counter and storms out. “Tell Josefina I’m sick” he snarls.

It takes George a long time to calm down and he snaps at a fair share of customers on the way. But as the day proceeds he starts thinking about gentler ways he could have used to persuade Jesús. He’s sure he hasn’t lost the other boy entirely, but this will cause a rift for sure. 

George always figured he’d meet a girl one day that would really do it for him. They’d have a whirlwind romance and they’d marry, have children and be happy. He didn’t figure out why that never happened till he had his whirlwind romance with Jesús. And George is not stupid. He knows the stories. He knows about the places where ‘depraved’ men go to find their pleasure. And because he knows that he also knows that this, what they have, is a precious thing. It’s difficult if not impossible to find someone with the same inclinations as you in a world where those inclinations are forbidden. It’s even more difficult to find one you happen to fall in love with. George is not stupid. He knows they might not work out, but he also knows he won’t get many chances like this.

He doesn’t want to lose Jesús, is what it all boils down to.

Jesús shows up in the shop at the end of the day.

“Ah, Jesús, are you feeling better?” Josephine asks. 

“Yes, it was just overcome by a nauseousness. I feel better now, thank you,” he sweetly smiles. George leans against the door of the mailroom and watches him intently. “I’ll work some over hours tomorrow, promise. Just wanted to drop this off for George.”

He shoots George an unreadable look and puts a folded sheet of paper on the counter. Then he gives an awkward wave and leaves.

George lurches forward to grab the sheet. He expected a letter from Jesús, but instead it’s a typed out letter directed to Jesús. It’s dated a few weeks back, and it’s signed by one Douglas Engelbart from the Stanford Research Institute. He has to read it three times before he understands what it says. 

There’s a quickly scribbled note at the bottom of the page. “This is where we can go,” it reads.

On Wednesday evening he stays in the post office longer to help Jesús with his reply to Douglas Engelbart. They apologize for their delay in replying and thank him for the compliments on the work Jesús had handed in for the correspondence course. 

They also accept his offer to Jesús for a job at the Stanford Research Institute.

Jesús doesn’t want to add it, but George puts it in anyway: could any transportation cost from New York to San Francisco be covered, by any chance? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do please look up Douglas Engelbart, because he's my 50s/60s computer celebrity crush (Alan Turing already being dead at the time). He's known for "The Mother of all Demos" in which he introduced the world to such amazing things as the computer mouse, hyperlinks and video conferences. He's super cool, Jesús is incredibly lucky to get to work with him ;).


	6. Epilogue

The news of Tony’s, Bernardo and Riff’s death doesn’t reach them till many months after the fact. When it does it’s in the form of a letter signed by Anybodys. 

“Tony gave me your address before he died,” the first line reads, and George has to lean back in his chair for a while. 

The rest of the letter is not easier. He reads about Tony and Maria, about the rumble that killed both Riff and Bernardo, about the Jets assaulting Anita and Chino’s murder of Tony. The letter ends on a more cheerful note; there’s a tentative peace between the Sharks and Jets, Maria has started working at Doc’s and keeps an eye on everyone, Anita has gone back to Puerto Rico for an indefinite amount of time; Anybody’s managed to get hired at a hotel posing as a guy. It’s still gloomy. Anybody’s doesn’t even mention the other Jets. 

Jesús comes home late that night and finds George still staring at the sheets of paper in his hand.

“Is that one of Ginsberg’s?” he asks while he puts the groceries in the kitchen. “Tell Jack to stop giving you poems, he’s filling your head with birds. Also tell him I bought some good oranges he’ll like.” He starts taking groceries out of the paper bag while he continues talking. “Douglas said he really liked my solution for the overheating problem. He’s lobbying to get his own research center, did you know? Maybe he’ll take me with him.” 

When George doesn’t react he turns around to look at him. “Ey, gringo, what’s going on?” 

George weakly waves with the letter and Jesús snaps it out of his hand. George watches him intently as Jesús’ eyes fly over the pages. When he’s done he stares at George with big eyes. 

“I need to write Anita.”

George nods slowly. “She still thinks we went away on the ship, right?”

“She should know the truth.”

“Do you know where she might have gone in Puerto Rico?” 

Jesús’ brain seems to be working overtime. “Our grandparents’. She could come here, perhaps? I should write her.” 

He hurries to get a sheet of paper. 

George turns to the small bookcase they’ve been filling with Jack’s handaways and reaches for Volume II of Shakespeare’s collected works. 

It’s stupid, he thinks. Tony, Maria, Jesús and me, we have nothing to do with this. This is our world, this is our very own very complicated reality. If there _ were _ any relation, I’d be Benvolio and not Romeo.

He takes the book anyways and opens it on the last page of Romeo and Juliet. 

‘_ A glooming peace this morning with it brings. _

_ The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. _

_ Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. _

_ Some shall be pardoned, and some punishèd. _

_ For never was a story of more woe _

_ Than this of Juliet, and her Romeo.’_

"They were kind of like Romeo and Juliet themselves, eh?" he says without looking up.

"As are we."

"But we didn't die. Shouldn't we have died?" George frowns. "We had, have, it more difficult than they..."

Jesús smiles grimly. "We survived because all of them were our common enemy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
